


trust me

by zanark9nds



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, weird nsfw for a prompt idk what do you do at 3 in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanark9nds/pseuds/zanark9nds
Summary: NSFW prompt: sensory deprivationZa'an has it rough in terms of scarring - his left horn is almost nearly broken off, while his right eye is heavily scarred thanks to being slightly tempered from the Primal Shiva (it gets worse over time/experiences, the most recent being tempted by the Lightwarden Storge in the second half of Shadowbringers MSQ.)
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	trust me

**Author's Note:**

> once more since Za'an is selectively mute he speaks with his hands! so his dialogue looks (like this)
> 
> za'an's got a lot going on - if you have any questions about him, feel free to ask me some stuff over at @icehearts_ on twitter!

The first thing Za’an notices is how dark it is within the Ocular - though it was nighttime, he supposed, he didn’t remember the lights ever being on or off - it was more a sort of ambient presence. At once he’s frustrated, more with himself than the Exarch for being unable to see in the dark now more than ever: Shiva’s presence had worn thin during his time on the First, but with the recent encounter with Storge, she had forced her way through the aether to protect her vessel at the further cost of his right eye. It had become scarred, ice beginning to spread out from the socket itself, and sight was all but lost upon it completely. His other eye seemed fine, though it was the one spared of the familial limbal glow. 

He cannot see the Exarch standing in the middle of the room, hands twisting together in wicked nervousness. The Exarch, however, has a multitude of advantages over the other, sharp eyes able to see in dark places most easily, small stature affording him the ability to make his way about the room as he pleased. 

“Ah, Warrior,” he speaks clearly, though a slight tremble threatens within his throat. 

Za’an lifts his hands to reply but realizes if he cannot see, the Exarch might not be -

“Worry not of the dark - I can see your words clearly,” he assures, lips lifting in a small smile. 

(It’s late, Exarch,) Za’an begins, turning toward the sound of his voice. (And it’s dark in here - you know what’s happened to me.)

“Yes. My apologies about the room - and the hour. I simply wished to talk with you in a more private manner.”

(It’s fine - what is it?)

At this straightforwardness the Exarch becomes nervous, second-guessing his bravery for calling the Warrior of Darkness here in the first place. 

“Forgive me...perhaps - perhaps this was unwarranted.” He drops his hands to either side, fists clenching hard in the fabric of his robe. 

(Are you sure?)

“I-”

(You don’t sound sure.) 

Naturally, with the loss of one sense comes the strength of another, though Za’an’s observation in his ability to listen to people was never lost on the Exarch. 

“Forgive me,” he repeats, forcing himself to approach Za’an. “How...how are you? After your encounter I’m half surprised to see you up and about. Your eye is...quite changed, it seems.” he’s struck, suddenly, with a moment of deja vu, heart pained at wondering if Za’an felt it too.

To his surprise, Za’an smiles. (It might sound silly, but I’m glad She’s back,) he starts, thanking Shiva for his survival many times throughout his life, the most recent being more spectacular. (Though she left me with quite a scar this time,) he glances at the floor. 

“I think it suits you wonderfully,” the words slip out, his voice a bit hushed. Part of him hopes Za’an didn’t hear, though he knew it was folly. 

He lifts a hand to his face, touching over the scar lightly. (Really? It feels rather ugly,) he grins, good eye narrowing with his expression. 

The Exarch approaches further, joining his hand over Za’an’s as he touches it with the delicacy of butterfly wings. “I find it rather lovely,” his voice impossibly soft. “A beautiful reminder of someone who loves you so - that they’d cross worlds to protect you.” 

The Exarch is too close for Za’an to answer. His smile drops, expression in awe and thought, waiting for his hand to move. 

Za’an’s breath hitches as he feels the hard crystal of the Exarch’s other hand grips into the armor on his chest as he gets closer still. He can hear how shaky his breathing has become. He finds himself blinking rapidly in the dark, wishing Shiva would chime in with what she sees through the scarring. But she’s delightfully silent tonight, enjoying the view. 

The hand that was studying his scar sweeps to the side of Za’an’s face, fingers curling around his horn to draw the Xaela closer. He wastes no time as he kisses hard, aimless at first, softening when he finds his mark. 

It might have been something he’s wanted in a hundred years or more. 

“Forgive me, Warrior,” he starts breathless, pulling away only slightly, “for I may have asked you here tonight for selfish reasons.”

Za’an is terrified at the thought of being wanted, heart racing at the thought of the Crystal Exarch himself coming onto him - what made it worse was the Exarch expecting him not to know who he was. 

_ It’s only fair I see his face, _ he thinks to himself, hands embracing the shorter man when he leans back in for more, catching him offguard as he kisses again.  _ It’s only fair, _ he repeatedly decides, hands attempting to sweep along his robe as he explores his body, much to his pleasure, flitted moans left against Za’an’s mouth. 

But the Exarch is stronger than he appears, seizing Za’an suddenly by the arms when his hands reach the hood of his robe, forcing him off. 

(I’m sorry - was that - was that too much?)

“Give me your hands, Warrior.” 

Za’an cannot see the Exarch remove a belt of cloth from around his waist, turning on his heel to walk behind him, hands in his own. Za’an can feel his arms being restrained, pulling away wildly when he realizes. 

(Exarch-)

“I can’t trust you to steal a glance at me, no matter how blind you are,” he says lightly with a smile, reaching for his armored hands again. 

(But I can’t talk to you without them,) he pleads. 

“Hmm,” the sound of his amusement so  _ painfully familiar _ . “This is true,” he concedes. “However...it may be for the best, this time,” he grins, confidence full in his chest. 

Za’an is hesitant to give his hands back, strange excitement in his chest at the thought of having to use his voice if it came to it. 

“I sense your discomfort, Za’an,” his voice softening. “You can trust me. If at any moment you become uncomfortable, I will stop,” he promises. 

(It’s okay, I trust you,) he assures, only half true. 

The Exarch is quick, then, to fold Za’an’s arms behind his back, struggling a bit but not impossible in his armor. The Xaela is careful in his breathing, staring at the floor in anticipation. 

He fastens the strip of cloth tightly, standing back a bit to appreciate his work. “Where shall I have you…” he thinks to himself, hands upon Za’an’s shoulders as he backs him up to the wall. 

“Careful now,” there’s a light tease in his tone. “Would you mind sitting down for me?” 

It’s a bit awkward without his arms to help himself balance, but with a bit of help from the Exarch he finds himself upon the floor, legs splayed out in front of him. His heart begins to race once more when he feels the weight of the Exarch sit upon his lap. 

“Oh, that’s much better,” he remarks. “Short you may be but you’re still malms above my height,” he laughs. He laughs again as he watches Za’an roll his eyes in response.

The Exarch has a knee on either side of Za’an’s hip, elbows propped on his shoulders as he leans in to kiss again. The chill of his skin was so welcome, breath escaping his throat and forcing him to break away, overwhelmed. Za’an waits, heavy-lidded stare blindly watching him. He wears a sly smile, enough to say  _ what, that’s all? _

Not all, the Exarch decides, closing in on him again. He makes himself breathless, demanding entrance with his tongue to which the knight offers freely. Immediately he’s mindful of his teeth,  _ that smile,  _ so delightfully sharp if edged the wrong way. At the sense of such danger a shock shoots through to his tailbone, body pulsing involuntarily against the other. Za’an takes this moment to sink the length of his forked tongue into the Exarch’s mouth, threatening to lick into his throat, chasing the moans and whines elicited from him. 

“Had I known this about you sooner, I would have summoned you here a long time ago,” the Exarch rasps, nearly lunging back to start over again. Za’an’s eyes roll back, a faint growl in his throat when the smaller body grinds against his own again. Despite the armor, he can still feel how hard he was. 

“Oh, was that a sound I heard? How lovely,” he teases, purposefully grinding against him again, longing for the sound. He’s victorious, Za’an unable to stop himself, noise stuck in his throat. 

He’s frustrated, trying to shove his hips upward, hands fighting against the cloth but  _ gods, he’s tied this thing tight _ . His effort pays off to some degree, the Exarch jumping slightly when he feels the rock of his hips. The stiff fabric of his armor is becoming unusually taut, discomfort swelling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Perhaps you are hungry for more of me…?” the softness of his voice spikes pain in Za’an’s heart but he isn’t sure why, though the smile on his lips speaks otherwise. His lips part further in slight surprise as the Exarch traces his teeth with his fingertip. “Ah, I must be mindful of these,” he muses to himself, hand moving to palm the scales on the Xaela’s cheek, careful as he delicately outlines the ice surrounding his eye. “Does this hurt you, Za’an?” he asks in hardly more than a whisper. 

It was sensitive, sure, the new scarring still pretty fresh. He shakes his head slightly,  _ no. _

“It’s strikingly cold, though I’m not sure why I’m surprised,” he says, standing to his feet. Za’an tries to follow him, eyes blindly staring in the dark of the Ocular. He struggles again, shoulders rolling him forward before the Exarch gently pushes his head back against the wall. 

“Don’t panic, I’m right here,” he promises. He breathes in deeply, standing around Za’an, hips wonderfully situated in front of his face. He prods himself forward only slightly, enough to make himself obvious. 

_ Bastard, _ Za’an thinks to himself, knowing that the Exarch knew if he had use of his hands he’d have him pinned to the Ocular’s shimmering floor.  _ Fine, I’ll do this your way - just like old times, G’rah- _

“Hmm,” the Exarch hums to himself, hand fluffing through Za’an’s hair to get purchase on the base of his neck. His confidence falters only slightly when he feels that cold skin against the fabric of his robes, the Warrior of Darkness  _ exactly  _ where he wants them, and yet, and  _ yet- _

“Ah-!” his hand tightens in the silvery black hair, surprised at how Za’an teases his teeth around him through his robe. “Impatient, are you?” he grunts. 

Za’an simply stares directly upward, unharmed eye seeming to glow with his wanting glare. 

“Yeah?” he can’t help but smirk, knowing Za’an can’t see his face making his confidence spike. “Yeah, look how hungry you are.”

Za’an resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead very slightly tightening his teeth around the Exarch, as if to send a warning. It seems to work, his reactive  _ yelp _ filling the otherwise empty room. 

The Exarch uses his free hand to shoo Za’an away for a moment, parting his robes enough to reveal himself, all at once feeling breathless seeing Za’an  _ so close _ to him like this. He doesn’t ask him if he’s ready, simply grips harder into his hair to steer him closer still. 

“Use those teeth on me and I’ll send you back to the Source with your arms still tied,” he breathes. “Show me your tongue, Za’an,” he commands, air of a ruler surrounding him at once. 

Za’an obeys, jaw relaxing as the forks of his tongue slide effortlessly past his teeth.

“Ah...perfect,” he sighs. His eyes narrow as he gently uses his free hand to situate himself against his tongue, tip of his cock nudging his lip, begging for entrance. Za’an gives it to him, shoving himself forward as best he can to take in as much of the Exarch as he can manage, once again taking him by surprise. He doesn’t let him retreat, not now, not when he’s finally got an advantage. 

His eye widens only slightly when he hears the Exarch slam his hand into the wall above him to stop himself from crying out. Za’an exhales sharply through his nose, amused, letting the length of his tongue fully extend along the Exarch’s length, intrigued at the texture of flesh and crystal. He steadies himself, his breathing, can't let himself get overwhelmed at the warmth in his mouth, the Exarch  _ everywhere _ yet nowhere as his open eyes see nothing. He can only focus on the throb in his throat, can't see those wild red eyes staring, nor the hand curling into a fist against the wall. But Za'an knows he's being watched, eyes narrowing in mischievous satisfaction, grunting slightly when the Exarch thrusts deep in retaliation. 

"Trying to tease me, are you?" he gasps, both hands gripped into Za'an's hair as he folds over the Xaela to fuck himself a bit harder. He responds to those muffled grunts with sounds of his own, all but crying out as he thrusts over and over. For a moment he slows, fearing he's close in attempt to pull out but Za'an chases him, sucking hard and fast. He feels his teeth nip hard against a part that's turned to crystal, slowing only to focus the area with his tongue. Gods, he wishes he could see it. 

"I can still feel it, you know, I, ah,  _ ahh- _ " losing his words when Za'an swallows him again, eyes tearing up a bit. "I-I can't do this much longer, please Za'an,  _ please,"  _ he stutters, knowing the Warrior could feel how he ached in his mouth. His hands intertwine through lengths of hair, his forehead resting against the cool stone of the wall.

Za'an doesn't slow himself but rather the opposite, suddenly desperate to taste him. When the Exarch finally comes he's shaking, loud, airy gasps echoing throughout the dark Ocular. Za'an doesn't take his mouth off him, swallowing it all. 

The Exarch nearly has to force Za'an off, hand around his chin, tracing the edges of his scales in amusement. He kneels low again, hovering over his lap, other hand falling between Za'an's legs. "Oh yes," he breathes, barely audible. He kisses Za'an hard, wasting no time, hand moving to gently work himself open. 

"Your armor might prove a bit tricky, especially if I have to manage it myself," he says with his usual weightless tone. Za'an can hear the smile in his voice, the excitement behind it. He says it like it’s another challenge, a game; Za’an’s brought, suddenly, back to the gutted landscape of Mor Dhona, laughter echoing through the searing crystal structures. 

He leans forward, searching for the Exarch, who laughs as he watches him. “A moment, please,” he starts, both hands spread between his legs. “I’d like to take my time with this, but - ah,” another soft laugh at himself, embarrassed to express his thoughts. 

Za’an growls in question, pressing him for answers.

“I must admit, having the Warrior of Darkness before me like this truly is something else,” he remarks, speaking as he undresses Za’an. He laughs, and to his surprise it’s bubbly, almost childlike. Happy - 

_ You’ve waited a lot longer than I have for this.  _

“You’ve done so well, Za’an,” he starts again, the Xaela sighing when he feels the warmth of the Exarch’s hands against his skin. “So well for me - and I - oh -  _ oh,”  _ he stops, eyes widening as he studies Za’an in his hands. 

Za'an, meanwhile, does his best to ignore the nervousness in his chest, waiting for the Exarch to speak again. Instead he feels him get closer, Za’an struggling against his binds to reflexively embrace him. Hands frame his face, the crystal texture of his fingers slipping into his mouth, desperately working past his teeth and his tongue. He removes his hand a second later, working between his legs to prepare himself. “Gods, you're cold,” he rasps. “Forgive me,” his breaths becoming short. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

A jolt of electricity shoots through Za’an’s spine, wanting nothing more than to satiate his hunger. Slowly, the Exarch eases himself onto Za’an, eyes widening at the pressure but forcing himself to relax as he slowly takes him. Za’an stops thinking, unable to process anything but the soft whines eliciting from the Exarch, gentleness of his voice amplified in his pleasure. He dares not move out of fear of hurting him, all he can do is sit still while the other slowly rocks his hips, crying out at the feeling of Za’an going deeper. His crystallized hand is fixed upon Za’an’s chest, the other scooping around his neck to bring him closer again. “I need to kiss you,” he begs, teeth clashing against Za’an’s own as he meets him with furor. His fangs settle deep into Za’an’s lower lip, temptation to draw blood more than present as he lets go, Za’an taking the chance to dive into his neck. 

He ignores the slight protests, rocking his hips back into the Exarch, who shoves himself back down. “More,  _ more, _ ” he demands, bringing Za’an into his neck. 

He can feel the soft cloth of his hood, the robes clinging to his body along with the heat surrounding him. He leans his face against the Exarch’s neck, crystallized skin feeling cool against his tongue. He bites softly at first, hardly surprised when he’s met with a rock-like texture, allowing his teeth to bite a little harder. The ice of his eye glows faintly against the skin made ancient, his other eye shut tight as he kisses hard, the Exarch's taste and smell overwhelming and  _ too familiar, how could you expect I wouldn’t know you, how could y- _

“A-ah,” he moans, letting himself be a little louder. “More. _ More. _ ” 

He thrusts upward again, he can feel himself pulse harder and harder the more the Exarch makes noise. The Ocular begins to echo his voice like a song, his pleasure encompassing the Warrior of Darkness in a way that drives him insane. 

The Exarch releases a mangled cry when he feels Za’an come, forcing himself down harder to take him in fully. He rides him out, hips jutting uncontrollably, harsh breathing sounding almost like a growl. Za’an matches him in noise, the feeling of losing himself in the Exarch eliciting from his throat a deep, broken groan.

The Exarch embraces him, still slowly riding him as they come down from a shared high. His hands run along his back until they find Za’an’s, smiling into the Xaela’s neck as he unties the cloth around his wrists. He half expects the knight to seize him the minute he’s freed, but Za’an only embraces the Exarch in return. His hands feel so new, so  _ warm _ as he runs them along the other's. back, memorizing the outline of his body through the robes. He swears he feels the Exarch shaking, stilling his motion with his hands, wanting to say so much with them at the same time.  _ I’m here, I’m here, _ he thinks, not caring if he moved from this spot ever again. He simply pulls his face back, facing up to the Exarch’s to kiss again, again, and countless times into the night. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> idk how i got dragged into WoL/Exarch i swear 
> 
> (thank you for reading!)


End file.
